I am the trumpeter quietly waiting for his time to play
The announcer of the band
Telling stories with my horn
I am the person tearing it up at jazz band
The one who forgets to practice
The one who forgets to oil his valves
I am the reminder of forgotten lives
I greet many with the NationalAnthem
The one who thinks one mistake is too many
I am the one who makes up my own soloes on the spot
The one who sweats while playing
I am the trumpeter
Justice
My name is Casey Dieter-Leeds. I am a normal 13 year old.
I've lived in Willimantic for my whole life. I live in a place where people want to do the wrong thing
Not many believe in doing the right thing I believe in justice
Even though justice is spat on in my community The communtiy environment would be Stress free Loving And that's what I want
Unfortunately I,m the outlier
Outnumbered To them
I'm just a nerdy middle schooler writing Writing to the wrong-doers who will not Read this.
_
-To fit the Italian
food mood.
Mozzarella Stick
The customer took a bite out of the freshly fried stick of cheese
It was then dipped into the thick, red, delicious sauce
that created a delightful squirt inside the mouth of the customer.
He wiped his greasy hands on the helpless pants while smiling his widest.
Slowly,
Slowly,
The mozarella sticks were gone.
The only thing left was a smile on the customer's face.
They bite me and tear me apart with those white saws.
I cry the salty oil but they seem to enjoy my pain and sadness.
They scorch me with that horrific vegetable blood which
slowly seeps into my body melting my insides further.
Some pick my skin off and leave me naked on my plate.
The sad thing is, they eat every single one of my fried friends.
We make them happy.
What do we get in return? EATEN!!
A Golden Flake in a Sea of Stones
It was the night of the middle school performance
Which was being held in the gym
Everything was acting to accordance
As the lights began to dim
Chansey the trumpeter was ready to play
But there was one issue
The feeling Chansey received when in front of a crowd wasn't gay
This was something Chansey wanted to pursue
He would play into his stand
Playing the quietist note that could be reached
Chansey let the others carry the band
Too scared of his playing being preached
Chansey was never congratulated after the shows
He would end up walking home
The band members would say "There Chansey goes"
But he just dismally roamed
The band walked proudly on to the stage
The director stood on his dais
The band opened up to the first page
And the audience began to gaze
The band began there song
It was a great way to start off
The percussion hit the gong
But Chansey heard a cough
He shot a glance to his left only to find the trumpet soloist choking
Chansey looked to his right to see the back up soloist smoking
What are we going to do?
Chansey thought the next actions hard and through
Chansey gathered up his fears
Of the audiences jeers
Chansey began to sweat
Creating an arm pit which was extremely wet
Chansey put the mouthpiece to his lip
Only to hear a small amount of the audiences yips
"Chansey is about to play the solo!"
"Wait 'till you hear this trumpeter go!"
Chansey began his part
Gathering enough nerve which resulted in a good start
The crowd fell silent
The band stopped playing
Chansey continued
As the tears started sparying
The solo was over
He had done his best
Chansey was wondering if he needed a bullet proof vest
A blissful roar opened up from the audience
The band carried Chansey to the crowd in happiness
The audience came running up to congratulate Chansey contently
"It was so beautiful" The crowd said gently
Chansey now loved this place
For a wide smile illuminated his face.
Casey's Poetry Page
The Trumpeter
I am the trumpeter quietly waiting for his time to play
The announcer of the band
Telling stories with my horn
I am the person tearing it up at jazz band
The one who forgets to practice
The one who forgets to oil his valves
I am the reminder of forgotten lives
I greet many with the National Anthem
The one who thinks one mistake is too many
I am the one who makes up my own soloes on the spot
The one who sweats while playing
I am the trumpeter
Justice
My name is Casey Dieter-Leeds.
I am a normal 13 year old.
I've lived in Willimantic for my whole life.
I live in a place where people want to do the wrong thing
Not many believe in doing the right thing
I believe in justice
Even though justice is spat on in my community
The communtiy environment would be
Stress free
Loving
And that's what I want
Unfortunately
I,m the outlier
Outnumbered
To them
I'm just a nerdy middle schooler writing
Writing to the wrong-doers who will not
Read this.
_
-To fit the Italian
food mood.
Mozzarella Stick
The customer took a bite out of the freshly fried stick of cheese
It was then dipped into the thick, red, delicious sauce
that created a delightful squirt inside the mouth of the customer.
He wiped his greasy hands on the helpless pants while smiling his widest.
Slowly,
Slowly,
The mozarella sticks were gone.
The only thing left was a smile on the customer's face.
They bite me and tear me apart with those white saws.
I cry the salty oil but they seem to enjoy my pain and sadness.
They scorch me with that horrific vegetable blood which
slowly seeps into my body melting my insides further.
Some pick my skin off and leave me naked on my plate.
The sad thing is, they eat every single one of my fried friends.
We make them happy.
What do we get in return?
EATEN!!
A Golden Flake in a Sea of Stones
It was the night of the middle school performance
Which was being held in the gym
Everything was acting to accordance
As the lights began to dim
Chansey the trumpeter was ready to play
But there was one issue
The feeling Chansey received when in front of a crowd wasn't gay
This was something Chansey wanted to pursue
He would play into his stand
Playing the quietist note that could be reached
Chansey let the others carry the band
Too scared of his playing being preached
Chansey was never congratulated after the shows
He would end up walking home
The band members would say "There Chansey goes"
But he just dismally roamed
The band walked proudly on to the stage
The director stood on his dais
The band opened up to the first page
And the audience began to gaze
The band began there song
It was a great way to start off
The percussion hit the gong
But Chansey heard a cough
He shot a glance to his left only to find the trumpet soloist choking
Chansey looked to his right to see the back up soloist smoking
What are we going to do?
Chansey thought the next actions hard and through
Chansey gathered up his fears
Of the audiences jeers
Chansey began to sweat
Creating an arm pit which was extremely wet
Chansey put the mouthpiece to his lip
Only to hear a small amount of the audiences yips
"Chansey is about to play the solo!"
"Wait 'till you hear this trumpeter go!"
Chansey began his part
Gathering enough nerve which resulted in a good start
The crowd fell silent
The band stopped playing
Chansey continued
As the tears started sparying
The solo was over
He had done his best
Chansey was wondering if he needed a bullet proof vest
A blissful roar opened up from the audience
The band carried Chansey to the crowd in happiness
The audience came running up to congratulate Chansey contently
"It was so beautiful" The crowd said gently
Chansey now loved this place
For a wide smile illuminated his face.
The End